In The Most Unexpected Places
by Arthur88
Summary: Surely nothing could develop between a sullen young noblewoman and an overenthusiastic Grey Warden? Not if a certain bard has anything to say about it! A series of AU connected shorts, primarily set during Origins, but also others from later games. Non-Warden F!Cousland/Alistair/Leliana with other characters appearing. Rated T for now, may update to M later for sex & violence
1. Chapter 1

_Having been away from all this for a while, dealing with work and health problems, as well as pursuing other writing projects, I've gotten inspired to return to writing in the world of Thedas again. This time, I've decided to write about my second favourite Warden I've created and always come back to in my games- the lovely Tabitha Cousland. I don't have the time or really the inclination to write out another 'From the Ashes', but over the next little while, I'll be writing connected shorts set at various points over the course of the events of Dragon Age Origins, with the odd one coming up in the settings of Awakening, DAII and Inquisition as this slowly progresses._

 _This will be slightly AU (in this storyline, Tabitha Cousland is not a Warden and thus escaped Highever without Duncan's help; the Warden in this story is Sandor Aeducan, who will make the odd appearance along with other favourites from the Dragon Age universe from all three games). Besides Tabitha, the main characters of this will be primarily Alistair and Leliana, dealing with those two helping Tabitha come out of her shell and get through her grief, as well as the bard helping our favourite royal bastard and his love interest admit their feelings for each other, (as well as getting to have some fun between the sheets with the both of them!). Will be a mixture of things in these as I just get some ideas that won't stay silent out of my head, give some much needed time to a favourite character of mine as well as try and write a few new stories with themes I don't usually touch to branch out my writing skills for new projects I'm working on._

 _As always, reviews and comments are always welcome and if you decide to join me on this little literary odyssey, I hope you enjoy what you find._

* * *

 _ **9:30 Dragon  
Lothering, four days before the Battle of Ostagar**_

The girl bolted upright from the bed the Chantry sisters had laid her on with a scream as she woke from whatever nightmare she'd been in, sending the blankets that had been draped over her scattering to the floor, inadvertantly exposing her naked, battle-scarred body, and Sister Leliana couldn't help but admire the sight as she attempted to convince her charge to calm down. The young woman's own body was beginning to help with that task, the brief burst of adrenaline being overcome by exhaustion and the injuries that covered her body - blade cuts, puncture wounds left by arrows, bruises, abrasions and what looked to Leliana's eyes like burns from magic and dog bites- most of which Leliana had helped bandage and tend over the course of the three days that had elapsed since Ser Bryant's templars had found the girl on the outskirts of Lothering badly hurt, half-dead from exhaustion, clinging to the saddle on the back of a horse that looked close to collapse itself, and brought her back to the Chantry. Revered Mother Jessica had placed the girl in Leliana's charge- mainly because the lay sister was the only one the five stone lump of tawny fur, muscle and sharp teeth that had drawn the templars' attention with its barking didn't growl or snap at trying to protect its mistress; the mabari seemed to be somewhat more trusting of Leliana- and Leliana hastened over to the girl, grabbing the fallen blanket to cover her charge as she tried to prevent her work over the last few days from being undone.

"It's alright, it's alright! You're safe, you're safe..." Leliana promised. "Please mademoiselle, calm down! You're still very weak and the worst of your injuries have yet to heal- you'll do yourself more harm than good with this..."

The panic Leliana could see flaring in the girl's eyes that had induced this from waking up in unfamiliar surroundings, wrapped in bandages and confronted by an unknown face, began to fade as she realised she wasn't in immediate danger. The fact that she was also naked seemed to dawn on her, as the girl allowed Leliana to drape the blanket over her, clutching it to her chest as she allowed the lay sister to sit her down on the edge of the bed. At that moment, a knock on the door and an armoured man with shoulder-length black hair and dark skin suggesting Rivaini blood in his lineage poked his head around the door, hand resting on his sword hilt, having expected trouble.

"Everything alright, sister?" the templar enquired. "We heard a hue and cry and suspected trouble...ah, I see our guest is awake" the man noted with a warm smile and a courteous nod towards the seated girl, but she didn't acknowledge it, staring off into the distance.

"All is well, Ser Bryant" Leliana assured him. "If you might give me a few moments to make our guest presentable..." The commander of Lothering's templars nodded and withdrew at that. The moment she closed the door, she heard the room's other occupant speak for the first time.

"You sound Orlesian, sister". It was a statement, not a question, but it sounded more surprised and confused than the haughty disdain she'd encountered from some Fereldans over the matter of her heritage.

"I was born in Val Royeux but I consider myself Ferelden; my mother was from Denerim, a maidservant to an Orlesian noblewoman who left this nation with her mistress when Orlais's occupation of Ferelden came to an end" Leliana replied as she took a seat beside the girl on the bed and studied her charge again. She was young, perhaps eighteen, nineteen years of age at the oldest, with a gangly, coltish look to her that suggested she still had a bit of growing into herself from girl to woman to do. Her auburn hair was cut short, raggedly so in places that suggested she'd trimmed it in haste to try and hide her identity, adorned with spiky braids that gave her a wild, tomboyish look. Her sapphire-blue eyes were grim and hollow, the look of someone who'd lost so much in a short space of time and she seemed to be teetering between rage and grief, but even in her state of turmoil and somewhat tattered state, Leliana couldn't deny the girl was very pretty- her high cheekbones, aquiline profile, elegant chin and high brow all gave her a classical beauty, enhanced and given a slightly alternative edge by the swirling tattoo around her right eye and cheek. With slightly longer hair and a little makeup to enhance its natural features, coupled with a decent dress on her slender physique, Leliana didn't doubt this girl would turn heads in any royal court in Thedas. Leliana changed the subject to distract herself from trying to admire what was under the blankets covering her charge.

"Well, you know who I am, but I confess, I don't know the same about you. Will you tell me your name, at least?"

"Tabitha..." the girl answered, her voice flavoured with a burr of a northern accent, suggesting her origins were from one of the cities on the northern coast, maybe Amaranthine or Highever. Leliana waited, but the girl said no more, not a surname or any further indication, and so the sister gently prodded her for more.

"Where have you come from? And in such haste?"

"Highever. I was entrusted with an imporant message from the lord of that city, meant for the ears of King Cailan himself..."

"Judging by the state of you, it's a message some don't want to be heard" Leliana opined. "You look like you've fought your way through an army, dear, you and that poor animal that brought you here..."

"Xanthus...where is he? Is he alright?" the girl demanded, her head pricking up at the mention of the gelding she'd been riding. Leliana was loath to cause the poor woman any more pain, but she would find out soon enough.

"I'm sorry, there was nothing we could do. He succumbed to his wounds in our stables not two days ago. We made sure he was comfortable to the end..." Leliana trailed off as she saw Tabitha all but double over with pained shock from the news.

"That horse was a gift from my fa...from my lord the day I swore myself as a scout in his service. I'd ridden him from one end of Ferelden to the other, he'd never failed me when I needed speed or to get safely...another damn thing lost thanks to that bastard..."

The tears came in an explosion of grief, and once they began falling, they didn't stop; Leliana found herself holding the poor young woman, stroking Tabitha's short hair and whispering gentle words to try and calm her. Once she'd gotten her crying under control, the whole sorry story came out; Tabitha said she was the daughter of Highever's master of arms, while she was a scout and soldier in the service of Teryn Bryce Cousland- her family had served the House of Cousland loyally for many generations. According to Tabitha, when most of Highever's soldiery had gone south with the Teyrn's son and heir to answer the royal muster at the southern fortress of Ostagar, Arl Rendon Howe of Amaranthine, supposedly an old friend and wartime comrade of Teyrn Cousland, had betrayed his lord and friend out of jealousy and greed, attacking the undermanned Highever Castle with his armies, murdering all within its walls, sparing not even women and children. Tabitha said she had seen her father cut down by Howe's lackies trying to defend the castle gates, and she had been one of the few to make it alive, having been charged by her mortally wounded lord to journey south to inform his heir and the King of Howe's treachery and ensure justice was done, that the traitor would not get to keep his ill-gotten prize. Leliana's heart went out to the poor girl- she still remembered the grief of her own mother's death when she'd been a child, and that had been from illness, Leliana couldn't imagine how painful it must be to watch a loved one die in so bloody and brutal a manner, and of course she was no stranger to the pain of betrayal from someone she thought she could be trusted, so she knew exactly how Tabitha felt, but while Leliana's compassionate nature wanted to say something to give comfort to Tabitha, she couldn't think of anything that, in the circumstances wouldn't sound like an empty platitude.

At that, there came a scrabbling at the door as someone else tried to enter the room, and suspecting that this would-be visitor wasn't going to be as easily dissuaded, Leliana let go of Tabitha for a moment to open it, and with a gleeful bark at the sight of his mistress awake, the mabari darted across the room like a tawny bolt of lightning, and for the first time, Tabitha smiled as the mabari leapt up, licking the tear tracks off his mistress's face, giggling a little at the dog's open, if somewhat wet affection and it heartened Leliana to see a little happiness break through to cheer the poor girl up a bit. _'The dog is likely the last vestige of her old life she has left'_ the sister thought to herself.

"Hello, Laelaps. I'm happy to see you too..." Tabitha said as she pushed the dog off her back onto the floor. "Have you been keeping this lot busy worrying about me?" An affirmative bark earned him a pat on the head. "Good boy"

"He's been staying outside the room all the time, waiting for you to wake; we couldn't even tempt him away to get food and water, we've had to leave it here for him" Leliana explained. "Speaking of which, they'll be serving dinner in the common room after the evening service, in a couple of hours. I have to go and help the Revered Mother prepare for the service, but I'll be back to take you there afterwards. I also get someone to bring you some fresh clothes and take you to find a bath; I'm sure you'd like to freshen up before dinner"

"Thank you" Tabitha nodded and speaking up as Leliana was about to leave "and thank you, sister, for all the kindness you've shown me. I don't know how I can repay you for-"

Leliana silenced her protestations with a raised hand. "The Maker urges that we give comfort, shelter and support to those who require it in times in need. Even if he didn't..." and at this, Tabitha noticed Leliana's expression became sombre "I know what it's like to lose everything you hold dear, to be so utterly betrayed by someone you thought you could trust; it's not a pain I'd wish on anyone, and I will do anything I can to help someone suffering the same to get past it"

Tabitha looked at her askance, but Leliana gave no further explanation. "I will see you at dinner. Please, look after yourself until then. You're still in my care, and Revered Mother Jessica would have my hide if anything were to happen to you"

* * *

Leliana had managed to scrounge up some spare robes from the Chantry's laundry, left over from sisters who'd either passed on to the Maker's side or had been sent to other Chantries across Thedas for her charge to wear. Tabitha clearly felt uncomfortable in them, but the leather armour she'd been wearing when the templars had found her and brought her back was so badly damaged there was no chance of salvaging it. Leliana directed Tabitha to a table along with several other of her fellow lay sisters and brought her the offerings from Brother Talbot in the Chantry's kitchen- bacon and chicken stew, along with hard brown bread- along with a leg of lamb for the dog to gnaw on. Tabitha had gone back to being evasive; she was courteous enough when the lay sisters dining with them tried to engage her in conversation, but she kept her answers concise, never going into too much detail or falling silent when the questions got too probing. Leliana suspected that beside herself, Tabitha didn't trust anyone in the Chantry- not that the sister could blame the girl, if what had just happened to her was anything to go on. Plus, Leliana got the suspicion the girl felt she'd given away too much already. It was only a small detail she'd caught, but it was enough to make Leliana suspicious.

 _Laelaps. The name of a hound supposed to be able to catch anything it was sent after, sent to hunt a fox that could never be caught, both animals locked in the chase, unable to eat, drink or sleep until the Maker finally took pity on both of them and set them free by placing them in the stars. A rather obscure legend, not one I'd expect the daughter of a mere soldier to know...she's certainly more learned than she's letting on. And the things she had with her- that horse, her armour, that sword we found in her saddlebags...all look too fine for a simple scout to be carrying, even if she was fairly well-trusted by her lord to be given such a mission..._

Leliana wouldn't probe too deeply- she wanted to help the girl through what she was suffering, and suspected she would lose Tabitha's budding trust in her if she pushed the girl too much- and she wouldn't deny the young woman the right to her secrets- Maker knew Leliana had enough of those herself that she didn't want coming to light- but it did make her curious about just what exactly lay beneath the surface of her charge and the mission she had to carry. She wanted to help, but suspected she was going to have to earn a bit more trust than she'd gleaned out of this sullen, wary creature at the moment. But if there was one thing anyone who knew her in her past could say about Leliana, it was that she was nothing if not persistent, and she had always loved a challenge.

 _I think I'll stay close to this one. I think she'll need the Maker's help, and mine very soon._

* * *

Tabitha wolfed down the bowl of stew, every so often casting a wary eye at her surroundings. She felt a little guilty that it seemed she was offending the hospitality of the sisters with her defensive attitude and posture, as well as her wariness and seeming unwillingness to talk but she'd didn't much care. Recent events had taught her that betrayal could come at any time and from the most unexpected sources. That was a lesson she'd never forget, smeared across her mind and her heart in the blood of her family. Plus, she had no idea if any of the hunters Howe had sent after her had managed to pick up her trail- while she was fairly confident she'd managed to throw them off after leaving most of them crippled or squirming in their own guts on the eaves of the Brecilian Forest, leaving the ones she didn't kill to the mercy of the wolves, she was wary that others might have suspected she head for the last outpost of Fereldan civilisation before the borders of the Korcari Wilds and start asking questions. She had to be at Ostagar before that happened.

She began conversation for the first time that night by speaking to Sister Leliana, asking the woman in charge of her care when she thought Tabitha would be fit to travel. Leliana had laughed in amazement at that. "Your devotion to your duty is an inspiration to us all! Some of us could learn much from you" she added with a pointed, yet jovial look at some of the younger lay-sisters seated at the table with them, before becoming more serious. "I'd say a few more days before it's safe for you to get back on a horse; you were half dead barely a week ago. I know you wish to complete your charge to your lord, but you'll not get it done any faster by leaving here too soon and dying on the road because you weren't ready to travel"

Tabitha nodded in thanks for the answer, watching as Leliana reached under the table to scratch Laelaps behind his ears and the mabari's stubby tail wagged happily at the attention, before dumping his head in the lay sister's lap, directing sad eyes up at her in the hopes of getting some of the bacon he was smelling out of her. ' _You like her, don't you? Well, she does seem quite nice...for an Orlesian'_ Tabitha thought at the sight. The mabari's instincts about people had been fairly accurate and, if truth be told, she found herself liking Leliana as well- it was possible the sister's friendly nature was an act to ingratitate herself, but Tabitha didn't think so- if Laelaps's trust of her was anything to go by, the girl genuinely wanted to help for whatever reason, whether it be devotion to the Maker's charity or sympathy for a fellow woman in pain...and it was for that reason that as soon as she could, Tabitha would move on, to save someone so kind from being dragged into all of the chaos around her. Tabitha felt bad for the fact as soon as she was healed, she would be on the move again without a word or by-their-leave - it seemed a poor way to repay them for their hospitality- but she didn't want to drag this place into what was hunting her- what had happened to Mother Mallol had convinced her the Chantry was not going to stop Howe from getting what he saw as his - and she couldn't afford to delay. If what she'd heard from the south was true- that there was credence to the rumours claiming the darkspawn amassing in the Korcari Wilds was the beginning of a new Blight- she had to get to Fergus and bring the horrible truth of what had been done to her family to the attention of King Cailan and ensure that he gave her and her brother the means to exact justice on their betrayer and take back what was rightfully theirs before the darkspawn and, if true, their draconic master became the focus of his attention.

 _His Majesty has to help us,_ Tabitha desperately thought to herself, barely paying any attention as the meal was cleared away and Leliana led her back to the guest quarters, only half-listening to the lay sister remarking that rest would help her body recover and speed the prospect of her getting underway as soon as she wished. It was the only thing that had kept her going all the way along the Imperial Highway and the hidden roads she'd taken since fleeing Highever, and about the only thing that had given her the strength to will her heart to keep beating when all it wanted was to give in and join those she had left behind. _He must help us. Our familiy has always been loyal , has ruled and kept the peace in the northern for House Theirin for years. My father forswore all claim to the crown out of loyalty to the royal family, and Cailan, for all his faults, is a man of principle and honour; Howe's treachery will disgust him. He won't allow it to go unpunished. He can't..._

* * *

 _ **Next time: Our lady friends encounter the Wardens...**_


	2. Chapter 2: First Meeting

_Apologies for the delay in updating this- I've been buried with real-life commitments and most of my writing time has been devoted to NaNoWriMo, but I do intend to see this through to the end- I've got ideas for this all the way up to the timeline of Trespasser, as well as tie in stories involving the Hawke and Lavellan who tie into this. So here's the latest installment; our heroines' first encounter with the Wardens of this story. Not the best of first impressions, but from small beginnings...next time, in the aftermath of the events at the Circle of Magi, Sandor and Tabitha bond over the fact they have more in common than they realise..._

 _Hope you enjoy my latest foray in Thedas!_

* * *

 ** _Dane's Refuge, Lothering, eight days after the Battle of Ostagar_**

* * *

The two young women sat at their table, sipping the wine they'd ordered- what was probably the last of the wine the tavern had in its cellars- the red and gold robes they were wearing saving them from the worst of the attentions of the refugees, and more worryingly, the soldiers wearing the wyvern heraldry of Teyrn Loghain, boorishly making a nuisance of themselves, constantly demanding more ale and groping any of the barmaids or female refugees who strayed too close. In what seemed like another lifetime, she herself would have leapt across the tavern's main room and silenced the drunken wretches permanently with the insertion of a sword through their gullets, but that had been a different woman; Leliana had striven too long and hard to cast off that darker side of her character to let it slip now. Leliana saw Tabitha's left hand on the table close into a fist (the right was undoubtedly fingering the hilt of the knife hidden in her robes) and gently placed a restraining hand on the girl's wrist; the last thing they needed was trouble ahead of time, not until she found the people she needed to. Still, Leliana could understand Tabitha's anger- the girl had been in a foul mood ever since word had come from the south while she was still healing that had made her desperate flight worthless, that her mission would never be completed.

The mood in the tavern was grim, the news of King Cailain's death and the darkspawn victory at Ostagar the talk on everyone's lips, the fear that the monsters would soon be moving north to capitalise on their victory heavy in the air. Soon enough, the pair were going to have to make their minds up about what they would do next; when the horde moved north, being in its path was no place to be- Leliana had been a bard, she knew all the tales of the Fourth Blight and the ruins the darkspawn made of the lands they conquered, poisoning the rivers and the lands so they would remain undrinkable and fallow for years to come, destroying the plants and corrupting the animals. It pained Leliana to think of the place she had come to call home despoiled and destroyed by such monsters, but there was nothing for it- the uncertainty of what the future might hold was better than the certainty of death if they remained.

Leliana took another sip of the watered down ale she'd been nursing for half an hour- revolting stuff, but all the barkeep had left in his cellars and there wasn't likely to be any more anytime soon, no merchant willing to come south with the Blight's influence expanding from the wilds- running a finger through her braided red hair and trying once more to keep both her anger and her companion's in check at the obnoxious behaviour of Loghain's soldiers. If their boorish behaviour hadn't been enough to anger most of the village, then the whispers that had begun to hang over the village like flies round a corpse as more and more survivors of the battle had staggered up from the south, certainly had. More and more reports came every day accusing _Loghain_ of treachery, claiming the teyrn had withdrawn his forces from the battlefield at the pivotal moment, leaving his king, most of his supporters and their soldiers and the Wardens to their deaths when the darkspawn overran their position. Though Loghain's men had tried to stamp the whispers out, they had failed, and the last messenger from the north, bringing word from the court in Denerim that Loghain had declared himself Regent, King in all but name, had only lent further credence to those rumours; she'd played the Game for long enough to know the stink of a coup when she smelled it.

The tavern door swung open, and the strangest group wandered into the tavern; Laelaps's head perked up as he caught the scent of another of his kind, the new mabari's tan fur streaked with blood and marked with old scars- this dog had clearly seen many fights. Behind him loped a young woman in her late teens or early twenties; her style of dress was clearly Chasind, but her raven-black hair and ivory skin were a marked distance from the Chasind's usual swarthy complexion, certainly striking in their surroundings, to say nothing of the attire she was wearing-a purple vest that barely covered her ample bosom, and a pair of black leggings that clung to her lithe limbs. In her right hand, she leaned on a long wooden staff, and the Chantry sister wondered if this woman were a mage. _'Strange to see one so far from the tower'_ she thought _'unless she's not with the Circle...'_

With them marched two even more unusual characters; a young man, between her and Tabitha in age, carrying himself with the air of a warrior, clad in worn and battle-scarred splintmail armour, a simple, functional sword sheathed at his waist and a wooden shield hanging from a strap on his back, the only concession to ornamentation on his person the sun emblem of the Chantry on his shield, though so badly damaged by blades and claws it was barely recognisable. The man looked tired, but he still had an insouciant look to his features, weather-beaten but handsome, added to by the mop of spiky honey-blonde hair atop his head. He appeared to be telling something in the ear of his other companion, a dwarf, bald as an egg but bearing a wild, braided reddish-brown beard, the portions of his face and neck that weren't covered by hair crisscrossed with a lattice of scars. The heavy chainmail armour he wore was almost as heavily scarred as his face, notched and chipped in places, stained by blood both red and black- the dwarf was clearly a warrior not afraid to throw himself into the thick of combat. At his belt hung an ugly looking axe that no human or dwarven smith would admit to forging, ugly and notched, its cutting edge jagged and tapering to a vicious looking spike that looked capable of punching through plate armour with savage ease, as well as a large metal shield devoid of sigil or ornamentation, covered in battle damage.

Leliana was surprised at the presence of a dwarf- she'd heard no rumours that Orzammar had sent forces to assist King Cailan at Ostagar- until something clicked in the back of her mind. ' _The son of stone'_ she realised, thinking back to the dream she'd had two nights previous: watching from atop a peak as an overwhelming tide of darkness swept over the land, devouring everything in its path. As she watched helpless, weeping as she saw the land perish under the foul taint seeping into it, she heard above her head the beating of leathery wings and a terrible noise that reverberated all around her; a blood-curdling screech of rage, pain and hatred older than mankind itself, hatred for all life, hatred that would see everything die...

She remembered waking from that nightmare, weeping at the horrors she'd witnessed, and slipping into the Chantry's gardens to recover herself. She remembered looking at an old, withered rose bush and to her surprise, seeing a single blossom on the bush. And then she'd heard a voice, but when she looked round, there was no one there. A voice of peace, compassion and mercy, that whispered to her in a comforting tone " _Even in the darkness, there is hope, and beauty. Have_ _faith_ ".

She must have fallen asleep because she remembered dreaming again, but this time it was different: the darkness was still trying to swallow the land, but this time something stood in its path; something gleaming in the dark like a single, brilliant candle in the night. The light flickered and wavered, but the darkness could not extinguish it. And she had heard the voice, speaking to her imploringly " _The son of stone, the griffon born of the wolf's blood and the daughter of the dragon. They hold the key to halting the spawn of darkness. Find them. Help them"_

The sisters had derided her when she'd told them of this- even the Revered Mother's patience with her claims had seemed a little patronising. Tabitha claimed to believe her, but Leliana suspected the younger girl was just humouring her out of gratitude for looking after her- Leliana strongly suspected if the girl had ever believed, then recent events had stripped her of her faith. ' _One more thing I will try to help her rediscover, if I can. I've healed her body, but her heart and her soul will be more of a challenge…but a worthy one. I know what it's like to lose what you hold dear, to feel the darkness pulling at you, the anger and the grief slowly poisoning the good. I won't let that happen to her, not like it nearly did to me'._

She got to her feet, but out of the corner of her eye, the sister saw the soldiers get to their feet to intercept the newcomers. ' _I shouldn't be surprised. If Loghain set them here, then doubtless he's who they're after as well!'_ she thought. Without thinking, she idly fingered the handle of the knife she'd hidden in her robes. She didn't want to use it, but if these thugs turned violent, she wouldn't hesitate to. Above all else, she knew the man she'd been shown couldn't come to harm.

* * *

"Well, look here men! I think we've just been blessed!" a cruel voice sneered to Alistair's right. He looked around and saw half a dozen men, clad in fine armour marked with the wyvern of Gwaren and an assortment of weapons, rising from their seats. The fellow who'd spoken- a tall man with short, dark hair and a scraggly beard the same colour, clad in silver scale armour with a greatsword on his back, clearly the one in charge- grinned malevolently at them as they entered, showing a mouth of stained yellow teeth. Alistair could see from their flushed faces and slightly dull eyes they were quite drunk, and looking for an excuse to be violent. Alistair chanced a look to his left; the dwarf, his fellow sole survivor of Ostagar, was sizing them up, clearly already thinking about how best to bring them down. There was no obvious sign of it on Sandor's face, but he could see the tightness of the mouth, the simmering look of rage always looking like it were perpetually about to boil over, the fact his fellow Warden's hand was already moving towards the hilt of his sword, all signs that he was prepared for violence. His fellow Warden, despite being his junior in the Order, had years of battle experience fighting in the Deep Roads, certainly more than Alistair, one more reason why Alistair was more than happy to follow Sandor's lead. Given that they were all that was left of the Wardens in Ferelden, if the dwarf had an idea or plan that would keep them from joining their fellows in the cold earth too soon, Alistair was more than happy to follow it.

One of the soldiers-a bearded man in splintmail and a steel helm- turned to the sergeant and asked "Didn't we spend all morning asking about a man and a dwarf by this very description? And didn't everyone say they hadn't seen him?". The sergeant nodded and glowered at the rest of the tavern's patrons, as though they were all his mortal enemies. "It seems we were lied to" he snarled.

At this point, Alistair saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his left eye. His attention caught quite a lovely sight; two young women, both redheads, looking willowy and slender even under the red and gold Chantry robes they wore, rising to their feet and moving in the direction of the growing altercation. Having had no female company for the better part of a fortnight bar the acid-tongued harpy bringing up the rear, it was quite nice to see there were actually still other women out there, and hopeless as he was with fair maidens, the sisters back at the monastery had always treated him fairly, so he'd always felt more comfortable at the sight of a woman in those robes.

Looking closely, Alistair saw that the closer of the two looked to be older- twenty three, twenty four at the oldest- with red bangs adorned by a long braid of hair down the left side of her head- while the one behind her, who looked eighteen or nineteen at his best guess, had her hair cut short and spiky, with numerous braids of it around her head. He was also quick to notice, to his eyes, they were extremely beautiful; in the light of the roaring fire in the centre of the tavern, their hair gleamed like burnished copper, accentuated by striking eyes- emerald green in the case of the older, sapphire blue in the case of the younger- with heart-shaped faces with high cheekbones, pointed, tapered chins, and willowy, slender figures. She raised a placating hand to the soldiers, and when she spoke in a slow, peaceful tone, Alistair felt a pleasurable appeal in the sultry purr of her voice, made all the more exotic by the rich Orlesian accent she spoke with. She was smiling in a charming manner, clearly meant to try and calm hostilities, which in Alistair's opinion was a good thing because the soldiers looked drunk and spoiling for a fight, Sandor seemed only seconds away from drawing his sword and the look in the eyes of the younger woman sent a chill down his spine.

"Gentlemen, surely there's no need for trouble. These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge" she said in a gentle tone. The sergeant scowled at her and snapped "They're more than that! Now stay out of our way, sister! You protect these traitors, you'll get the same as them!"

Alistair's temper was already frayed and even he would welcome the chance to work out some of his anger over what had happened on these lapdogs of the deserter, but he had no wish to get anyone else killed. He tried to gently chivvy the sister and her companion back. "We don't need your help, miss. Please stand back, for your own safety..."

To his surprise, the Orlesian sister gave a very unfeminine snort and laughed "You don't need my protection, but these men will blindly follow their master's commands, even unto death". The sergeant's face went red with outraged fury as he bellowed in the woman's face "I AM NOT THE BLIND ONE! I served at Ostagar, where the teyrn saved us from the Grey Wardens' treachery! I serve him gladly...but enough talk!" The sergeant turned to his men and snapped orders "Take the Warden into custody. Kill the sister, and anyone else who gets in your way!"

The first soldier who'd spoken nodded and advanced on them. "Right, let's make this quick. Surrender, Wardens; come quietly and the regent may show merc-!" The man's right hand moved to draw his sword…and as soon as his arm moved, the girl drove the knife she'd kept hidden up the sleeve of her robe under his armpit. The blade was out in an instant and the next closest soldier fell to one knee with the knife in the girl's hand buried up to the handle in his eye socket.

The sergeant gave a furious roar and drew his greatsword, clearly intending to hack the sister in two, but before he could, Alistair charged forward, catching the descending blow with his shield, before lashing out with a backhanded blow that sent the heavy wooden thing into the sergeant's chin; drunk and already off balance, the sergeant smashed back into the table he and his men had been drinking at, going arse over tit over it and sending the tankards on its top flying. A fourth man charged forward, screaming like a banshee with his sword held above his head; Sandor easily dodged aside the drunkard's attack and buried a metre of steel through the man's bowels before the soldier could recover. The dwarf ripped the blade free and his foe collapsed, screaming for the Maker, his mother and anyone else who cared to listen as he tried to keep his guts inside him. That made an end to it; the soldiers had expected a one-sided fight, but hadn't imagined they'd be on the losing end. Heavily drunk and outmatched, with three of their comrades dead and their leader in no condition to fight on, the two remaining soldiers, both of them looking to be young men, threw down their swords in surrender.

The sergeant groggily tried to get to his feet, helped by a young lad who looked barely old enough to shave; seeing a number of blades pointing at him, the man reluctantly threw down his sword, the Orlesian woman kicking it away.

"Alright, you've won. We surrender!" the sergeant reluctantly conceded. The Orlesian sister smiled as she looked at Alistair and his fellows "Good. They've learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting now" she concluded. Sandor, however, gave a loud snort: from what little Duncan had told Alistair of the dwarf's past and the simmering anger Sandor had been bottling up ever since he'd woke in Flemeth's shack, his idea of teaching these worms a lesson was far from over. "You are scum and filth in service to an oath-breaking, kin-slaying, cowardly dog!" he shouted at the soldiers. "Teyrn Loghain, the so-called 'Hero of Ferelden' is the traitor who betrayed your King Cailan at Ostagar!"

There was a collective gasp of shock and some outrage at this; no doubt many of the people had swallowed the lies fed to them about what had happened at Ostagar. Unfortunately, the sergeant either still had a degree of loyalty to his lord or more likely was too drunk to keep his mouth shut. "I was there! The teyrn pulled us out of a trap!"

Though angry himself at the lie, Alistair grimaced as the dwarf's face acquired a look of naked fury: the last time he'd seen that expression, ten seconds later Sandor had been beating a hurlock emissary to death with his bare fists.

"I saw what happened from the top of the Tower of Ishal! Loghain deserted, he left Cailan to die!"

"The Wardens led the King to his death! The Teyrn could do nothing, good folk!" the sergeant shouted before a boot between his legs quickly shut him up.

"Blind and stupid like all humans! Ask your Maker to show you the truth when you see him!" Sandor spat, glancing at Morrigan and Alistair as he raised his sword. "No witnesses. Kill them all!"

"Please, they have surrendered, they were no match for you. Let them be!" the Orlesian pleaded.

Sandor glared at her in anger, gesturing to the wretched man squirming in his grip "They were going to murder us, Sister, and you too, in case you've forgotten!" he snapped. The young woman raised a placating hand and replied "But they failed. And I do not wish death on anyone".

"You should kill them" the younger woman said in a flat, emotionless voice behind him, her accent betraying her as a native of northern Ferelden, Highever or Amaranthine. "Let them go and they'll run straight back to Loghain. And you may not be able to deal with what he sends after you next time".

One of the men balked at this, falling to his knees in front of Sandor. "Please, I have a wife and a son-"

Alistair gawped in surprise as the younger woman stormed over, seized the man by the back of his head and jammed her knife under his chin, her expression murderous. "My lord's grandson was only seven and men like you butchered him and his mother in their beds like pigs! Why should I not pay your lord back in his own coin?!" she screamed.

The girl tensed, as if to rip the knife across her victim's throat, but before she could, the Orlesian was across the room, gripping the wrist of the hand clutching the knife firmly and speaking to her companion in a placatory, but stern tone.

"Please, Tabitha. You're better than this. These idiots aren't responsible for what happened to you or your lord. Kill them and you'll be no better than the men you hate, striking down men just because you can". Tabitha gave a sigh of frustration but nodded bitterly and reluctantly let go of her captive. The Orlesian then turned her attention to Sandor and Alistair, addressing them directly.

"Friends, I say the same to you. Your passage through Lothering will not go unnoticed. Too many here know now what you are; would you kill them all to keep your secret safe? You kill for a reason in battle; to push back the darkspawn horde and to cast down the archdemon. Your task ahead of fighting the Blight will be arduous enough without resorting to murdering those unlucky enough to cross your path for no more crime than obeying orders from their masters that they cannot refuse. Please…"

For a moment, Alistair thought her words wouldn't make a blind bit of difference; he'd seen the berserker battle-lust Sandor worked himself into in the heat of battle- once he got started, stopping him was a near impossible task. For a minute, the moment hung with Sandor's sword raised, as if to bring it down on the sergeant's skull, but at the last instant, the dwarf brought the blade slamming down into the wooden floorboards inches from the man's right knee. An acrid, foul stench filled the tavern air.

Furious, Sandor irritably jerked his head at the Orlesian sister and snarled to Loghain's lackeys "I've killed far better men than you for far less. Kiss her feet and thank your Maker she was here to save you. Tell your cur of a master he'll get what's coming to him, one way or another. Now get out before I change my mind!"

The sergeant jumped like a whipped dog, then nodded and yelped "I'll tell him, right away! Thank you!" With that, he and his men ran out of the tavern, chased out the door by the two mabari, snapping at their heels and barking angrily after them. Spitting in disgust, Sandor sank into an empty chair by the table the guards had just vacated and bellowed at the bar staff "WENCH! ALE! FOOD! NOW!"

That proved the last straw for many of the tavern's patrons. Almost as one, they bolted for the door, causing a scrum as they bolted. Mercifully for the tavern keeper and his staff, Sandor tossed them the coin belts from the dead men, seemingly willing to make up for the sudden loss of business he had just caused. The Orlesian sister moved to approach Sandor but Alistair interposed himself between her and the dwarf before she could make herself the target of his ire; in this mood, anything was likely to set him off. Alistair picked a relatively clean table, picked up a few of the chairs that had been knocked over in the scrum to get out and motioned for the women to sit down.

The Orlesian sister smiled at the thought and said "I apologise for interfering, but I couldn't sit by and not help".

Alistair grinned devilishly and replied "Quite all right. Saving the lives of hapless maidens from those kinds of rogues is what I'm good for"

"One of the few things" Morrigan muttered sotto voce. The younger of the redheads gave Alistair a look as though he'd expressed a desire for intimate relations with sheep in the middle of the Grand Cathedral while the Orlesian puffed up angrily at the implication in his words.

" _Save my life_?! I assure you, I can take care of myself!"

"I would hope so, sister" Alistair replied with an impish grin. "Particularly if you make a habit of charging headlong into mortal danger all the time"

The sister's scowl only deepened at his flippancy. "So now you know everything about me?! We've barely just met!"

"Well, technically, we haven't actually, sister…" Alistair went on. The Orlesian sister made to curse him, but then caught herself and shook her head with a rueful smile as she conceded his point.

"You have me there, ser, but that can be easily remedied, no?" the Orlesian replied as she gestured to herself with a long fingered hand "Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering...or I was. And this is Tabitha, late of Highever, and a ward of our Chantry for several weeks now". Alistair raised her hand to his lips, gently kissed the back of it and replied "Enchanté, Leliana" addressing her in one of the few words of Orlesian he knew. "Alistair, a pleasure to meet you". Alistair tried to do the same with Tabitha but to his surprise, she irritably jerked her hand out of his reach. A few moments later, she seemed to reconsider her rudeness and extended her hand, shaking Alistair's in the traditional Fereldan manner, but gave no explanation for her abrupt manner.

Leliana smiled at being complimented in her native tongue and said "You are a Grey Warden, then? You will be battling the darkspawn, yes? That is what Grey Wardens do?" her tone becoming much more blunt and businesslike. "I know after what happened, you will need all the help you can get. That is why we're coming along with you".

The group looked somewhat surprised at her forthrightness. Morrigan scoffed at the sister, the haughty sneer on her lips making it clear how useful she thought the girl would be. Alistair seemed surprised that someone would actually volunteer to go with them, considering the Wardens' name was mud now. Her tone seemed honest, and he did owe the pair for their help, but why would she wish to accompany them?

"It's true we do need help, this is true, but why are you so eager to come with me?"

"The Maker told me to" was her immediate reply.

A great sense of unease swept over them all at Leliana's pronouncement. Morrigan's thin eyebrows rose so high in disbelief, they almost disappeared into her hairline. Tabitha rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief at Leliana's open display of either faith or delusion, while Alistair studied Leliana closely, looking to see anything on her face that would suggest her to be lying or a lunatic, deeply glad Sandor wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention- the dwarf had already made his views on the Chantry abundantly clear. Hher pretty face was blank, her only expression a bemused smile, as though she were uncertain why they were all looking at her so. 'She's telling the truth, or at least what she thinks is the truth...'

"Could you elaborate on this?" he asked, trying to sound more inquisitive than sceptical.

Leliana's smile faltered a little, as though she realised just how what she had said sounded and started to explain in a faltering tone "I, I know that sounds absolutely crazy...but it's _true_! I had a dream, a vision!"

"More crazy? I thought we were all full up!" Alistair glibly quipped in an aside to Shadow, the mabari grunting in agreement at his feet. Leliana scowled at him, but then took his hand as she pleadingly looked into his eyes "Look around; the people here are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this chaos will spread! What you do, what you are meant to do is the Maker's work! Let me help!" she pleaded.

Alistair had been about to say something- part of him agreed when she said they needed help, another argued that who they took on wasn't just his decision to make- when whatever he said was thrown out of his head by something landing in a tankard one of the soldiers had left half drunk on the table before the fight started. Fishing it out, Alistair saw it was a wrought iron key; he looked over at his fellow Warden, who had clearly tossed it over his shoulder without looking and was paying more attention to the meat pie in front of him as he talked without looking back to Alistair.

"The room that mob were rented has suddenly become available. If you're in that much need of a woman, make use of it; take one of them, take both for all I care- but be done with it by morning; I want to be out of this rat's nest and on the move before more trouble from Loghain finds us here"

Tabitha and Leliana both seemed to take offence at the crass implication in his words, but Alistair wisely stopped them from saying anything; he was aware the dwarf was far from subtle or given to softening his words, and the last thing, if this pair were serious about helping them against the Blight, the last thing they would want was to start an argument that would scupper their chances of that permanently.

"Trust me, you don't want to say anything when he's in a mood like this. If you still want to join us, meet us by the Imperial Highway, just outside the village…and for Maker's sake, come prepared" Alistair urged as he took his leave of the two women.

* * *

"They're not coming with us" Sandor snapped curtly. "I am not having you drag those two chits along with us just so you've got someone to keep your tent warm at night!"

"You released that qunari" Alistair retorted, gesturing to the heavy-set brute pulling the battleaxe his fellow Warden had acquired for him from the chest of one of the farmers who'd thrown their lives away for the bounty Loghain had placed on their heads. He could well believe the stories he'd heard in the village, of how the qunari warrior-Sten, as he called himself- had slaughtered an entire family by himself. "I suspect our task of rallying support to fight the Blight if we have friendlier faces than a mass murderer in our ranks!". Personally, the women would be a more welcome sight than a berserk heathen who'd confessed to butchering eight innocent people singlehandedly, at least three of them children.

"He's useful" Sandor retorted, gesturing to at least three bodies that bore the mark of the heavy axe that had hit them. "Those two…the Orlesian seems more priestess than fighter and as for that one-" Sandor didn't finish what he was thinking about the Fereldan girl currently wiping her knives clean on a dead farmer's tunic, namely that the last time he'd seen eyes that cold and merciless, they'd belonged to a shriek. The ease with which she'd carved through those two men in the tavern…Both women seemed to have dispensed with their Chantry robes, now clad in figure-hugging leather armour. Leliana favoured a longbow of yew as her weapon of choice, though two long bladed daggers were sheathed at her waist, while Tabitha had a shortbow of ash slung across her back, a curve bladed dagger sheathed at her hip and was currently cleaning the blade of an ornate looking sword that looked far too elaborate for a simple scout to be carrying on the back of a decapitated would-be bounty hunter who'd thought a pitchfork made him capable of standing up to warriors. The younger woman was giving the dwarf a cold look, almost challenging him to say something and Sandor didn't like it; there was a simmering core of rage below the surface that reminded him far too much of himself in the way she hurled herself at her foes. She was as near driven by the pursuit of revenge almost as much as he was.

"Well, she's certainly an Archdemon short of a Blight-they both are!" Sandor muttered under his breath.

"Well yes" Alistair admitted "but Leliana seems more 'Ooh, pretty colours' than 'I am Princess Stabbitty! Stab, stab, kill! Muhahahaha!" Sandor found himself biting his cheek to stop himself from cracking a smile at Alistair's perpetually lousy sense of humour "And she seems to know how to keep her friend's anger in check…the plea she made seemed wholehearted, and they may be strange but you can't deny they have skill" Alistair added, judging to the men who Tabitha's blades had eviscerated or Leliana's arrows had perforated.

At this point, Leliana retrieved the last of her arrows from the dead and sauntered over to the Wardens. "We all have to leave Lothering now to survive? Surely our chances are better if we travel together?"

Sandor scowled. "Give me one good reason why I should let you come with us"

"I can give you three" Leliana replied with an earnest smile. "For one, you've seen Tabitha and I can fight. You already have to battle an army of monsters when half the kingdom's forces are arrayed against you. You know there will be other bounty hunters, and ones far better equipped than these poor fools for the task. Surely, two more hands to wield blades to fend off such wretches would be welcome, no? Second, forgive me ser dwarf, but I think you are a stranger here on the surface. In the course of our duties, I in service to the Chantry and Tabitha to her…lord"- Sandor caught the pause and looked at Leliana askance, but the Orlesian did not elaborate "Tabitha and I have travelled across much of Ferelden; we know places and their people, places where you might find safe haven from your enemies and safe passage as you go about your task of readying this nation to face the Blight"

Sandor reluctantly had to concede those were good points- it was true they would need allies; Loghain's lies had made sure those lining up to help them would be few and far between, and some of the skills both women had shown, their group sorely needed. Alistair was looking at him expectantly, clearly believing the argument won, Shadow, the mabari they'd acquired in the journey from Ostagar seemingly also well inclined to the pair while Morrigan and Sten's expressions were inscrutable. Sandor raised his last objection.

"And the third thing you can offer?"

"Breakfast?" Leliana offered with an impish grin, holding up a brace of cleanly shot rabbits she'd clearly caught while waiting for them to arrive. Tabitha face-palmed and cracked a thin smile, the first sign of amusement anyone in both groups had seen her show- and Alistair gave a bark of laughter at the unexpected answer. Sandor was beaten.

"Perhaps the darkspawn cracked your skull worse than Mother thought" Morrigan muttered sotto voce as the party made to depart Lothering, Sandor motioning with a gauntleted hand for the two women to follow.


	3. Chapter 3

_**The latest installment to this slow-burning project; my take on a talk between the Warden of this storyline, Sandor Aeducan and Tabitha in the aftermath of the 'Broken Circle' quest. It was this idea that inspired the whole story overall (rather surprising for me since, like a great many of you out there, the inevitable portions of Dragon Age games set in the Fade I find to be a monstrous inconvenience). I could see a lot of similarities between an Aeducan and a Cousland (there's certainly a great deal of personal loss and treachery close to hom) and I thought I'd follow that thought through. Not sure, as always if I've done it the justice it deserves, but if I don't draw a line under this chapter and call it finished, I may never.**_

 _ **Hope you enjoy; next time, it's Redcliffe and a lot of secrets come out...  
**_

* * *

 _ **"I know the rage that drives you. That impossible anger strangling the grief, until the memory of your loved ones is just poison in your veins. And one day you catch yourself wishing the person you loved had never existed, so you'd be spared your pain** "-Batman Begins **  
**_

* * *

 _ **The Spoiled Princess Inn, Lake Calenhad, Ferelden  
2 weeks after the Battle of Ostagar**_

Tabitha angrily closed the door to her room on the inn's uppermost floor (paid for, by way of thanks, from the Circle of Magi's coffers). The memories of what had happened in there were still raw and bitter, and she didn't want to discuss it with the others. She knew they, particularly Alistair and Leliana, meant well, that they just wanted to know why she was upset and try to help, but Tabitha didn't need his puppy-like enthusiasm or her constant talk about trusting in the Maker's will to know all things would turn out well. The memories of what she'd loved and lost, of what had been dangled in front of her as bait in a snare mere hours before, just made Tabitha more convinced that there was no Maker, or if there was, He was capricious, cruel and insane, if what had happened at Highever was any indication.

She bitterly cursed that bloody dwarf under her breath again, the one who'd broken the dream, who'd interrupted the bliss she'd been shown. Part of her knew it had been a lie, bait in a snare, that everything and everyone she'd seen had just been pale simulacra of what she'd loved and lost, meant to hold her in place while she slowly became nothing more than a light snack for a demon...

 _'Would that have been so bad?'_ a small voice, girlish and pining, whispered in the back of her head. ' _A slow death, at peace, in happiness, surrounded by those you love again, as opposed to this cold, miserable reality with little to no chance of success, of getting the justice you want, that they deserve?'_

Tabitha snarled inwardly, cursing that whining little voice in the back of her mind, hating it for its petulance, for its whispers insinuating that she would turn her back on her family's values and devotion to duty for her own selfish wants...and because for one brief moment, she'd wanted to. It had seemed so perfect...

* * *

 _"Maker's breath, look at you!" Oriana gushed happily as she stepped back from putting on the diamond teardrop earrings-'something borrowed'- that she'd given Tabitha for the occasion and the elven maids finished making the finishing touches to Tabitha's hair. Tabitha stared at her reflection in the looking glass, barely recognising herself; her auburn hair fell past her shoulders, long and luxuriant, nothing like that braided, spiky boyish crop she'd had in that hellish dream, and from throat to feet, she was clad in a beautiful dress of royale sea silk, commissioned from one of the finest dressmakers in Denerim, the same one who'd made the wedding gown for Queen Anora herself..._

 _"Wedding?!" Something in the back of her mind yelled in protest. "That isn't right!". But she put it to the back of her mind, just a vestige of a fading dream. It was all coming back to her- Bann Sighard's son, Oswyn, had worn her favour on his armour at the tournament King Cailan had thrown to celebrate the victory over the darkspawn at Ostagar, and with it, he had thrown down all challengers; Ser Perth and Ser Jory of Redcliffe, Arl Wulff's sons Kevan and Callum, an incredible joust against Bann Teagan of Rainsfere...when Oswyn's lance in the final match had taken Loghain Mac Tir himself clean in the chest and sent him flying from the back of his horse to the ground, the cheers had deafened nearly all in attendance. Afterwards, flushed with victory, his armour stained and dented, his hair plastered with sweat but his expression jubilant, Oswyn had dismounted, gone on one knee before the seats of the nobility and proposed to her in front of half the nation- swept up in the romance and passion of it all, Tabitha had accepted, and nearly been rendered deaf again by a second round of celebratory cheers._

 _No, that is not right. Ostagar was a disaster, not a victory. King Cailan is dead, butchered by darkspawn and Loghain usurps the throne in his stead!_

 _Tabitha couldn't tell where that thought had come from, and fortunately, the presence of another entering the room helped drive it from her mind._

 _"Found it!" Eleanor Cousland declared with evident joy in her voice; Tabitha got the impression her mother had been waiting for this for quite some time. In the teyrna's hands was an elegant wooden box with their House's sigil engraved in gold leaf on the top, which she set upon the table and opened. Both her daughter and daughter-in-law gasped in awe at its contents; on a bed of red velvet lay a necklace of pearls, tapering down to a gold, diamond-shaped pendant with the Cousland 'C' picked out on its centre in lapis lazuli. It was fine work, the craft of a master goldsmith, possibly from Val Royeaux or Orzammar._

 _"Something old and something blue rolled into one" Eleanor declared happily. Tabitha could only shake her head, stunned at what was being offered to her._

 _"Mother, I can't take this. It-" Tabitha tried to stammer out her feelings. The necklace had been a wedding present to Eleanor, worn at state and ceremonial functions both in Highever and at the royal court in Denerim, a mark of her status. To be offered such a thing..._

 _"You're just borrowing it! I'll want it back at the end of the evening!" Eleanor brushed aside her daughter's protests with a wolfish grin. "Besides, you're the daughter of a teyrn and it's not every day you get married- you want to look the part" the teyrna insisted as she fastened the necklace around Tabitha's swan-like neck, the pendant coming to rest just above her cleavage (accentuated somewhat by the wedding dress). "Now close your mouth before something makes a nest in there. We can't keep Mother Mallol waiting much longer, lest people think you've decided to run!"_

 _Tabitha allowed her mother and Oriana, her maid of honour, to lead her into the castle hall, where a large number of the guests were congregating- in the centre of the room, she saw Rendon Howe brandishing the axe he favoured in times of war and regaling a group of children, including Oren, with a one-man reenactment of the Battle of White River. The children, a gaggle of boys and girls born to both nobles and servants, swiftly turned their attention from that spectacle to gawp at the sight of Tabitha entering the room, looking for all the world like a princess from an Orlesian bard's stories. Oren came running up, and she would have happily hugged him- her nephew was always such a sweet boy- had Oriana not stopped him with the authoritarian tone she always used when her son was up to no good, took one look at his hands and told him to go wash them before he put them anywhere near his aunt's wedding dress. As all present laughed good naturedly at Oren's pouting expression, her father and older brother joined them at the dais where the teyrn held court._

 _"Let me look at you" Bryce insisted, taking both of his daughter's hands in his own. "Is my little girl somewhere inside this beautiful young woman before me?"_

 _"Indeed" Fergus chuckled. "You should thank your new son-in-law, father; he's the first man I know of to get Tabitha into a dress since she was five!"_

 _Tabitha stuck out her tongue and made and exceptionally unladylike gesture at her big brother. At that point, Rendon Howe came sauntering over, putting the axe down on the table abd took one of her hands in his own. The voice in the back of her head from her dream shrieked and raged angrily at his touch, though she couldn't know why- Rendon Howe was one of her father's closest friends, a friendship forged in the rebellion, and as close to an uncle as Bryce's children had ever known. "She's certainly become a fine young woman, though I do wonder for the state of her mind" Howe remarked with a wicked smile. "Passion is all well and good, my dear, but when it dies down a bit, you want a man who can provide for you...so when are you going to ditch Sighard's boy and run away with me to the Vigil?"_

 _Tabitha hit him goodnaturedly in the chest. "You are a wicked soul to try and tempt me, Uncle Rendon!"_

 _"Would you have me any other way?" Rendon replied with an insoucient grin. **"Dead!"** the voice in the back of her mind shrieked, as she remembered what Howe had been like in that dream, so different to how she knew him..._

 _Before she could wonder where_ that _had come from_ , _Eleanor clapped her hands, addressing the guests "If you'd all like to head to the chapel, the ceremony will begin shortly in the chapel. I'm sure Mother Mallol and the groom have been kept waiting long enough!" . The guests filed out of the great hall to laughter at that, the bride and her family left alone to make their finishing touches before joining all others in the castle's chapel. Tabitha linked her arm with her father's, Oriana following behind her with Fergus stood with Ser Gilmore at the head of the honour guard escorting them, with a cleaned up Oren at the rear under the beady eye of his grandmother. But as the party exited the great hall and made to cross the courtyard, they saw something very strange; one of the gate guards staggering towards them, bearing a rather spectacular black eye_. _At the gate, another seemed to be shouting at someone outside._

"Lester?" _the accompanying Ser Gilmore asked of his subordinate_ "what's happened to you?"

"My lord" _the guard addressed Bryce "_ I apologise but there is a dwarf at the gates, claiming to be a Grey Warden, who is demanding entrance. I told him the castle was closed for the day, but, as you can see-" here, Lester gestured to his eye "he won't take no for an answer". Bryce raised a curious eyebrow and looked at the source of the fracas by the gate.

"Grey Wardens have always been welcome guests in my halls, though Warden-Commander Duncan could have sent word one of his people was coming. Let him in, I suppose I should hear what this dwarf has to say-"

 _But Lester again surprised them all_. "That's just the thing, my lord" he interrupted. "The dwarf, he's not here to speak to you, my lord. He's insisted he must speak with your daughter"

 _Tabitha was completely bemused- she'd seen dwarves before, either in the form of the mercenaries and merchants who stopped at Highever, and observed the occasional ambassador from Orzammar on her few visits to the royal court at Denerim, but she'd never known any of them personally. Her mother, Fergus and Oriana were all looking at her askance, saying the same thing with their eyes:_ "What have you done?". _At that moment, the dwarf barged past the second guard at the gate, grousing angrily_ "By the Ancestors, finally! Now I'm looking for a woman in your garrison, a scout who calls herself Tabitha, and I don't care what you say I know she's here-!"

 _The dwarf fell silent as he caught sight of Tabitha, clad in all her finery and she too was struck dumb at the sight of him, his head bald as an egg at the top, but dominated by a shaggy beard at its base, his visage as scarred as his armour and the targe he carried, a veridium sword with the symbol of a dwarven house engraved on its pommel sheathed at his hip. They stared at each other, completely oblivious to the confusion of all the others around them, as the revelation they'd each discovered about the other shook them utterly with surprise._

 _"You're nobility?" Sandor choked._

 _"You're here?!" Tabitha yelped as the memories of the dream- N **o, this is the dream,** the voice in the back of her mind shrieked as all the memories came flooding back- Highever in flames, Oriana, Oren, Mother, Father, their blood, Ostagar, Haven, the Circle of Magi- she staggered back, clutching her head, trying to force it out, to not remember..._

 _Completely confounded,but trying to be diplomatic, her father- **'No, the spirit impersonating him**!'- tried to address Sandor. "Greetings, master Warden. We rarely see many dwarves amongst your Order's ranks; what manner of business brings you to-"_

 _"Be silent, demon! I've no interest in hearing you peddle the lies you've fed her to me!" Sandor snapped, before fixing his gaze on Tabitha, who had collapsed on the stairs, rocking desperately, part of her wanting the lie, the other part refusing it. "We need to go, now. I still need to find the others; Alistair, Wynne, Leliana...they're stuck here somewhere, I need your help if we're all going to get out of this"_

 _It was the warmest she'd ever heard from the dwarf, but Byrce Cousland did not give up easily. The teyrn angrily snapped his fingers, waving forward his eldest son, Ser Gilmore and the guards, the metallic scrape as they drew their swords and Sandor unsheathed his own blade cutting through the silence._

 _"Grey Warden or not, you will learn respect for my office, dwarf! Have this wretch thrown in the dungeons until he's ready to apologise for the insult and distress he has caused-"_

 _"You can't stop him" Tabitha whispered, her voice close to a sob "You can't stop him, you can't stop him"_

 _Her father whirled round, clearly angered both by the dwarf's insolence and his daughter's maddening mantra. "You think?!" Bryce demanded. "I am the Teyrn of Highever; why should I not be able to throw out an insolent dwarf who has upset and offended my family and insulted my hospitality?!"_

 _"BECAUSE YOU'RE DEAD!" Tabitha shrieked in a hysterical voice. The minute the words were out, she clapped her hands to her mouth in horror, but it was too late._ 'I've said it. Maker forgive me, I've said it and made it true'. _Her father's expression melted from anger to horror, then sadness._

 _"Pup...Tabitha...it doesn't have to be like this, sweetheart" he insisted, her family, or the pale simulacra of them nodding in agreement, their expressions pleading with her to stay._

 _"It already is" Tabitha sobbed, knowing it was true. All of them- Mother, Father, Fergus, Oriana, Oren, Gilmore, Nan, Mallol, Aldous and all the others- gone where she could not call them back, beyond the lies and glamours of a demon to give them back to her, and the ones who'd taken them from her were still walking the earth, still unpunished for their crimes...as they always would be if she lingered here, if she didn't help find a way for the Wardens to bring them down, bring them to justice. As much as it hurt her to give up this bliss, to say goodbye again, now she knew the truth, she couldn't live a lie. Not if it kept her from honouring the last duty she had to her family...to avenge them. That drive was stronger than any lies a demon could conjure to tempt her._

 _"We need to go" the dwarf, Sandor insisted and Tabitha nodded. The guests were beginning to exit the chapel, curious as to what the holdup was, and with the lie revealed, it would not be long until they tried to get violent to keep her there. However, as she made to follow them, she caught sight of one and her anger bubbled up to the surface, suggesting one thing she could do to alleviate her unhappiness._

 _As she passed Rendon Howe, she gently took the axe he'd been demonstrating to the boy she loved that he'd had murdered from his hands. "Can I just borrow that for a second?" Rendon handed it over without a second thought, smiling benignly, the illusion still trying to hold up. Tabitha returned the smile...and then buried the axe between his legs. As he fell to his knees, gaping at her in horror, Tabitha seized the top of his head and forced it back, so she could look him in the eye. "That'll tide me over until I can do it to you in the flesh" she snarled before letting him fall forward and reluctantly following Sandor away, the wedding dress melting away into the leather armour she'd been wearing in the waking world..._

* * *

The door to her room opened, and Tabitha dived for the swordbelt she'd left hanging over the bedstead; she didn't care who it was, she didn't want them anywhere near her in this mood. "I thought I told you not to disturb me-!" she began to shriek, half-pulling the dagger from its sheath before looking over her shoulderand realising the intruder was not an assassin of Loghain's or Howe's, not Leliana, Alistair or Wynne and not one of the inn's hapless staff, but Sandor himself.

Tabitha was surprised; when they'd made camp on the road on the journey to Kinloch Hold, the dwarf had mainly kept to himself- the only two whose company he seemed to seek out being Morrigan and Sten, and occasionally he spoke to Alistair when the dwarf needed to clarify something regarding the Grey Wardens or their current course of action, but by and large, aside from the occasional order, he barely gave Tabitha and Leliana a second glance. So to see him here in her doorway was quite the surprise, though Tabitha wondered if he was here to express guilt for being a great deal of the cause of her current upset, or to chew her out for keeping her true identity secret.

It turned out to be the latter.

"You didn't think it worth mentioning when you joined our little party that you were nobility?" Sandor asked with a raised eyebrow. Tabitha irritably jerked her head for him to enter the room and closed it behind her, not wanting anyone else to hear what came next. "What difference would it have made if you'd known?!" she asked irritably. "If you think you're going to be getting support for your efforts from your house, you're sadly mistaken. My family are all dead, murdered by a traitorous snake who turned on us when we took him close to our breast, and I'm an outlaw with a price on my head- I'm as hunted and hated as you and Alistair and the only thing I have to keep me going is the prospect of dismembering the bastard traitor who killed them one joint at a time...a prospect that's about as likely as me becoming the Black Divine!"

"If you truly believed that, you wouldn't have left with me" Sandor replied, his expression softening a little under the fearsome beard. "I understand that you're angry; I have some idea of what you're feeling-"

"How could you possibly know what I think? What I feel?" she demanded angrily, not wanting to hear his platitudes. The warmth on the dwarf's face quickly vanished, replaced by his usual scowl.

"How I feel about losing _everything_?! About having everything I thought would be mine, everything I took for granted lost to me forever?! Oh I understand that _very_ well!" Sandor snarled. Tabitha's anger thawed a little, but she wouldn't let him turn this on her. The dwarf, however, saw his opening and took it.

"Did I tell you the name of my house? Aeducan?"

Tabitha wracked her brain, dredging up memories from Aldous's lessons in the library of Highever Castle. What little she could recall came back to her...

"Aren't they the ruling house of Orzammar?" Tabitha asked, astonished.

"They are, or at least they were when I was forced to leave" Sandor remarked bitterly. Tabitha raised an eyebrow curiously, and the tale he'd not even told Alistair, his closest companion, came out: Sandor Aeducan, a prince of Orzammar, goaded into murdering his elder brother by the machinations of his younger brother, driven into exile in the Deep Roads, saved from death by the Grey Wardens and brought to the surface, only to be robbed of that new opportunity in a single instance of treachery, and now a wanted outlaw driven only by the will to destroy those responsible.

"I know what it's like to be driven by the pursuit of revenge, the hunger of justice, no matter what...because like you, it's all I live for. My father is in his grave, my elder brother- for all that I hated him for the obnoxious fool he was, I would not have raised a hand against him, had he not forced the issue...all I have left to drive me is to become a kinslayer for a second time, killing my younger brother to give justice to our elder...and then to wash away my sins in the blood of an archdemon. You...I will help you find the same justice you seek against the one who wronged you- the grey haired weasel you gelded in the dream, I assume?" When Tabitha nodded, Sandor went on "You, however, when that is done, if what I saw is true, you will have matters to command your attention when what is yours is rightfully restored to you. Unlike me, you will have reasons to carry on when this mess is done...and there are people who can help you with that, as they cannot help me. There are three downstairs who more or less strongarmed me into talking to you, since they seem to blame whatever happened in the Fade, and whatever I did to get us out of there, for upsetting you. I can understand why you find them irksome at times- Ancestors know there are time when I want to brain Alistair with a rock, so I can't imagine what it must be like for you having him give you the puppy eyes every minute of the day, and I will never understand how the Chantry gained such an influence amongst you cloudheads if people as naive as Leliana are leading it- but for all their flaws, they do seem to care about you, if what I've seen is anything to go by. Don't push them away; you might need that when the time comes for your goals. At least come down- it doesn't have to be long, just an hour- let them see you, at least let them know you welcome their care for you". Tabitha had to admit the dwarf had a point; so wrapped in her grief, having been so abruptly brought back to the surface by the sloth demon, she'd cut herself off, rather than reach out to others, to admit that she'd welcome comfort. As her father had always said, it was not weakness to admit you need help, only arrogance to refuse it when you did...and in dealing with this, in trying to find a reason to carry on, she would welcome help.

"Don't tell them" Tabitha asked as the dwarf turned to leave, clearly expecting her to follow him out. "What you saw, what I am...let me tell them, in my own time". She would give them the truth- they all deserved to know that much- but she did not want the additional burden of making that revelation and the repurcussions that would likely come from that secret keeping on top of making amends for her self-absorbed behaviour tonight.

Sandor shrugged his shoulders idly. "We all have our secrets...my lady. What you choose to do with them is yours". As they descended into the tavern's common room, where dinner appeared to be served, she saw Alistair and Leliana rise from a table in a corner, heading straight for her, and when she saw their expressions, she felt a great sense of shame at locking herself away like a child in a tantrum, rather than consider others might be driving themselves mad with worry about her.

"Are you alright?" Leliana asked and Tabitha took her hand, squeezing it gently. "I will be" she replied evenly, nodding to the Orlesian and flashing a soft, grateful smile to Alistair at the sight of his look of concern. Sandor's advice might have something to it; she had lost her old family, gone where she could not call them back, only rejoin them, but as Sandor had made the point, she should not be so hasty to make that reunion. 'In such good company, I might find something to at least bring a modicum of happiness in these unhappy circumstances I find myself in'.


End file.
